Sacrifice
by Phoenix Rising
Summary: Seifer's thoughts on the Sorceress, and a shedload of self pity. May become a series, please read the author's note for more details. R&R appreciated!


Sacrifice- A Seifer Vignette

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters named hereafter, I'm merely taking them for a joyride. Seifer, Quistis and the rest of the Final Fantasy VIII crew belong to Squaresoft. The views and feelings expressed in this vignette are my own, and do not represent those of the owners and shareholders of Square Inc.

Author's Note: This is a prelude; I may continue it as a series of Seifer vignettes, or turn it into a Saifuu/ Queifer, but some RR could help me decide! Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as is praise. All flames will be fed to the fire-wyrm. Thankyou for reading!

Seifer Almasy sat on the cool sand of the Balamb beaches, resting his head upon his clasped hands. The moon was rising; bathing everything in a silvery glow that reminded him of the one person he missed most in the entire world. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling her face. Every happy memory had her in it somewhere; not that there were many of those these days. The years of GF use had destroyed his childhood memories; now all he could remember was fleeting images and the entire SeeD campaign in horrible full colour. He remembered when she'd followed him to Galbadia Garden, just to try and save him. She said she was tired of fighting, and deep down inside, Seifer was too. He shook his head trying to free himself of abominable memories. Now, he couldn't remember the last time he'd used Hyperion, he couldn't recall ever feeling noble, just used. He stood up slowly, brushing the white sand from his black trousers, wishing he could so easily wipe the blood from his hands; the sin from his soul.

Every night since his return to Balamb, he would go down to the beach to watch the sunset. He remembered fishing on the pier with Raijin and Fujin. As he paced carefully through the dimly lit streets back to the tiny apartment that did little more than keep the rain off his head, he thought about his posse. He wondered what they were doing now; Fujin would probably have passed her SeeD exam with flying colours by now, and he laughed as he imagined her being sent on a mission with the chicken-wuss. As he climbed the metal fire escape to his door, he smiled sadly, imagining he could still see Raijin goofing off, and Fujin watching over him closely. Like brother and sister they'd always been; the most unlikely pairing of siblings. Raijin, dark as night, built like an armoured elephant; and Fujin, pale as the moon, lithe as a willow twig. They were his posse, his friends, and now he was alone. He knew exactly why, and he pitied himself for it. He'd sacrificed the life he might have had as soon as he signed onto the sorceress's pay roll. If he were a Tarot card, he'd be the hanged man, the symbol of sacrifice; only Seifer was selfish, had only ever fought for himself and it had gotten him nowhere.

He could lie to himself every night as he climbed wearily into bed after another dull, empty day, but it would do no good. He'd always wanted to be someone's saviour; the white knight who would rush in, slay the monsters or bad guys, and save the beautiful damsel in distress. As Seifer lay in bed that night, he let his mind drift back to when he was a child, he imagined all the memories that he'd lost through GF use; and lived those that had recently flooded back in weird fragments of the truth. One of his earliest memories was 'saving' Quistis from a dead crab on the beach by the orphanage; his first act of chivalry. In a way, he'd loved her because he knew she detested him, and would never feel for Seifer like she obviously did for Squall. His first true love, but not in the typical sense, would always be Edea; the mother figure in his life. He had felt so strongly for her; he would have done anything for her. Seifer liked to believe that was why he'd become a Sorceress's Knight; because Sorceress Edea was _his_ Edea, the next best thing to a mother. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over in his rickety bed and yawned as sleep overcame him.


End file.
